


Change

by suspiciousteapot



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Could Be Canon, F/M, Family, Mentions of violence and rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-15 23:04:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2246667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspiciousteapot/pseuds/suspiciousteapot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ned's feelings during Robert's Rebellion, from Riverrun to the Tower of Joy. Written for Ned x Cat Week, Day 2: Autumn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change

**Author's Note:**

> All the stuff belongs to George R. R. Martin. Sorry/not sorry for all of the sads. It's a sad time period in the books and I've shamelessly exploited that. Kudos, constructive criticism and other comments greatly appreciated, as always.
> 
> [EDIT: Real Life and other fandoms have taken me away from this, so I likely won't finish it. Apologies!]

His mind had been so clear before he’d come to Riverrun. He would avenge his father and brother and save Lyanna. Now, however, his mind swirled more than the falling leaves in the autumn wind swirled around his mare’s hooves as he rode for King’s Landing.

He hadn’t seen her, hadn’t known her (hadn’t _known_ her) then, before Riverrun. Catelyn Tully. Catelyn Stark now. He knew that most people found him cold and thought that he truly felt as little as his face showed. 

They did not know how he could hardly sleep for grief at his father and brother’s deaths and worry for his sister so strong it made him sick. He also felt anger. Anger at his brother for his rash decision to rush off to King’s Landing without proper planning, at Rhaegar Targaryen for stealing his sister and, before he’d reached Riverrun, at Hoster Tully for detaining them so long. 

He knew the wedding was necessary and that a fortnight was a remarkably short stay, given why they were there, but it took time away from finding Lyanna, so the unreasonable anger remained. But those feelings were familiar and understandable.

Now that more emotions were added his mind, they began to swirl and storm. The new emotions that were all the more surprising for how unexpected they were. He had know he would feel a sense of responsibility for Catelyn, but he had not know that he would miss her, not even when he’d first ridden from her father’s castle. He had reasoned that he did not know her well, though they had tentatively shared some of their past with each other and, of course, their bodies. Yet he found himself missing her thoughtful conversation, a feeling sharpened by riding with Robert, who was rarely, if ever, thoughtful. He missed waking up to the sunlight on her copper hair and the warmth of her body. He missed the understanding in her sky blue eyes.

When he had bashfully admitted that to Robert, after having been prompted almost constantly as the rode for the city to tell him of his ‘fiery southron lady’, his friend had laughed.

“Look around you man! You can easily find a warm body to wake up to, and go to sleep with, more importantly. You won’t have to look hard to find red hair either. So cheer up! Calm your cock with a wench and wake your sword. Not a week from now we’ll have an adventure to tell many tales of, I’ll have a wife and you’ll have a sister.”

That had done nothing to comfort him, nor had the letter than arrived the following day. Now he could add worry about Catelyn and their unborn child to his mental storm. He did not tell Robert as he was not in the mood to be cheered, not the way Robert would have in mind. 

Yet he also felt hope and love for the child that did not yet exist. They were strange, light emotions amongst such storm clouds as crowded his mind. On the worst days he would think of his son (as he later heard the child to be) and bask in those hopeful and happy feelings. He had to do so, or else he thought he might break from the sorrow of the war.  
Robert saw glory in the gore, but Ned saw the fear or in the eyes of honourable men as he killed them, saw small folk with empty, broken eyes next to burnt homes or their dead. He saw the pain in the eyes of women when he arrived too late to stop his men and others raping them. 

He felt a vast pit of sorrow and weariness deep within him. It grew with each day, each fight. So he imagined his son playing with Catelyn to ward off that deep well of despair. He also used it to shield him from himself, for Robert was not the only one touched with battle rage. He had felt the fierce joy of dispatching with a foe. He had hated himself for it. Though he knew he fought with honour, he still felt like he was losing part of himself by killing so many men, more so when he enjoyed it. Imagining an innocence that he had helped make was the only comfort he found in the darkness of King’s Landing. 

Then came a day when even the idea of his son could not comfort him. Babes like his own lay at his feet wrapped in a crimson cloak.

“Dragonspawn.” Robert dismissed them. Ned felt a cold such as he had never felt before slide into his heart at that word and the contempt with which his friend spoke it. He suddenly felt very alone and very worried. This was his friend, practically his brother, and this would be his king. The thought made him colder.

That was the only night Ned had wept. He forced himself to feel the atrocity of the deaths of Princess Elia and her children. He thought he would feel angry, and he had at first. But then he’d realized he was shaking and tears were running down his face. He did nothing to stop them.

….

He stood in the bright room that had no right to be so light when what it contained was so dark. Lyanna lay cold on a bed of blood. He still held her hand which now no longer hand strength to grip his. _She’s gone._ He felt nothing but cold emptiness.

In the crook of his arm he held her last promise. It cried and screamed.

 _Catelyn will hate me._ He felt even more empty at the thought. He wondered if he would still be able to feel, or if he would forever be cold and empty, as some men were when they came back from war. He had never truly understood that until now.

He looked down at the squalling child in his arms. For a moment he resented the boy. If it weren’t for him, Lyanna would still be alive. He felt his jaw clench so hard it hurt.

“Blame the father, not the son.” Howland Reed’s soft voice came from his right, seeing his anger. He’d forgotten the man was there. Those words saved him.

The child cried out and the sorrow of the sound returned some of Ned’s own sorrow. The sadness was so great it was hard to breathe, but at least it was a feeling, proof that he hadn’t lost himself entirely. He soothed the child and for the first time since he’d seen Prince Rhaegar’s other children laid out in the throne room, he thought of his son. Not long from now he would hold his own babe as he now held his sister’s. Perhaps the two would be close, as he and Lya had been. He felt a small bit of hope return to him. He had lost most of his family, but he had gained a new one. Life was not as dark as King’s Landing. There was hope.


End file.
